Love Lessons: Rax's Story
by DazzledKelly
Summary: How did Rax feel when he met Prue? What's his side of the story? Based on Love Lessons by Jacqueline Wilson, this is Rax's perspective right from the beginning until the final page. This is the story of the forbidden relationship between teacher and student as you've never seen it before.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I locked up the art room, anxious to get my break over and done with so I could distract myself with teaching again. It had been another nightmare getting the kids ready this morning. Marianne had another go at me for taking too long with Harry in the bathroom. She seemed to think the world would end if I spent a second longer than necessary in there. I couldn't wait to get out the door and in the car for work. It seemed to be my only solace these days.

Day after day brought about another round of arguing with Marianne, and I really didn't know how much longer I could put up with it. I mean, I still loved her, of course. But I was beginning to feel that leaving my wife might be the only way out of this sham of a marriage and back to a happier me again.

I sighed as I headed out towards the playground, almost tasting the coffee on my tongue. I peered several feet ahead, seeing a mound of schoolchildren surrounding a woman with what I assumed to be her daughters. One of them looked about twelve, and very frightened, her eyes bulging out of her sockets and face beetroot-red. The other daughter looked older, but very young all the same, no older than fourteen, who wore a red and white checked dress. The mother appeared worried, struggling between standing still and legging it back to the school gates. Feeling sympathetic, I walked towards them. The older daughter said something I couldn't hear, and I reached them just as the mother plucked at her clothes.

"Can I help?" I said. All three of them looked at me worriedly, seemingly scared I would spontaneously take them by the arms and frogmarch them back across the playground and out of the gates.

"My girls are starting at the school. Well, I _think_ they are," said the mother, gesturing towards her children. I smiled at them in an effort to reassure them. They all seemed so nervous, and the other schoolkids weren't helping. I knew how it felt to be totally lost, unsure whether to stay or bolt for the door.

"I hope you'll be very happy here. Don't look so worried. It's always a bit weird staring at a new school." I said.

"They've not been to any school, not for years and years," said the mother, starting to tell me a detailed backstory of her children's lives. Of course, I knew from being a parent myself how easy it was to slip into impromptu monologues about my kids, but after a good five minutes or so of chatter, I decided to cut in as politely as I could: "Well, I'm sure everything will be fine." I nodded at the two girls – Prudence and Grace – and said, "I'll maybe see you in the art room sometime. I'm Mr Raxberry. I'm one of the art teachers here."

"I'm rubbish at art but Prue is brilliant," said Grace, the younger one.

"I'm not," said Prudence, going red.

"Yes you are," said Grace. Prudence pressed her lips together after that, blushing furiously. Then she raised her dark eyes to me, and right then I knew exactly how she must be feeling. There was nothing worse than having your artistic talents broadcasted without permission by a family member, especially in front of a stranger. I'd had the same thing happen to me, too. I wanted to express this verbally but thought better of it, not wanting to offend her sister or mother. So I settled for a sympathetic glance, hoping she got the message.

I showed the three of them to the school office and introduced them to Gina, my colleague. I wished them luck on their first day and then rushed off to get my coffee, though I probably had only a few minutes of my break left.

I spent most of the afternoon in autopilot, only realising I'd finished a double art lesson at the end of the day when the school bell rang, jolting me back to reality. I dreaded going home. I anticipated what mood Marianne would be in when I shuffled through the door later. I slipped back into autopilot whilst getting into my car to go home, yawning as I turned on the radio. What would the kids have for dinner tonight? Could I squeeze in another sketch before bed or would Marianne have me running after the kids all evening? All these worries clattered around in my head. I was so distracted I didn't watch the road properly. A flash of red sprinted in front of my car, snapping me back into the present. I slammed on the brakes, bleeping hard. My car came to a screeching halt in front of someone. And then I recognised her. It was Prudence King.

I felt a rush of anger towards myself. How could I have been so reckless? I almost killed her. I breathed out in relief, winding down my window to speak to her. I saw her sister Grace screaming hard. Prudence looked flushed and disorientated – but alive. I shook my head at her and said, "You must be in a hurry to get home." Her eyes widened when she saw who I was, probably scared shitless that I would yell at her or something. Maybe she thought I would give her a good telling off in art class tomorrow. She certainly wouldn't come back to school if I confirmed that fear by being angry at her now.

Her voice shaking, she said, "I'm sorry, I just wasn't looking," then she turned round and told her sister, "Stop that screaming!"

"I thought you were going to be killed!" Grace whimpered.

"I did too!" I said. "But I try not to make a habit of exterminating my pupils, especially on their first day at Wentworth. Get back on the pavement before another car comes along and really knocks you flying." Prudence shuffled back to the kerb, then I pulled up beside them, wondering how their first day went. Prudence squeezed her sister's hand, and I tried to remember the last time Marianne and I had done the same. Whenever it was, I couldn't recall it. I smiled at the two girls, pushing away those thoughts.

"How did it go then, girls?" I asked.

"It was OK!" said Grace. "I've got these two friends, Iggy and Figgy and—"

"Grace," Prudence interrupted, rolling her eyes upward.

"We're friends," Grace went on. "They're going to help me because I don't know heaps of stuff. Still, the teachers say I'll soon catch up as I'm still just in the first term."

"That's great," I said, glad she seemed happy. I wondered about Prudence, who didn't seem so eager to volunteer a recount of her day. I looked at her.

"What about you, Prue?" I said. Her eyes widened slightly when I spoke to her, but she simply shrugged.

"Oh dear," I said. "Yep. That was my reaction my first day here. In fact, I often feel that way now. But it'll get easier, you'll see. And I think your class is due an art lesson tomorrow. We can check each other out then. Bye now."

Grace wasn't paying much attention as I spoke. But Prue looked straight into my eyes, listening to every word. She didn't break eye contact once, even as I was waving goodbye. I couldn't work out what she could be thinking. Relieved to be alive, perhaps? Hopeful that tomorrow would be better than today? Bored to tears at the sound of my voice? Wishing I would shut up and go away? I was wondering long after I'd driven off and turned the corner. What unnerved me more than anything was how flattered I felt that someone was actually listening to me, genuinely interested in what came out of my mouth. I'd been missing that a lot lately. So much so that I'd forgotten what it felt like to be heard. Until now.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I felt strangely optimistic when I woke up the next morning. I got washed and dressed as I normally would, and even kissed Marianne on the lips on the way out, something I hadn't done in months. I bounded to my car and drove to school, whistling to the tune on the radio, which weirdly seemed to match my mood. As I turned into Wentworth road I spotted Prue and Grace walking towards the school. I gave a little toot of my horn and they both looked up and saw me. I gave Prue a quick wave, hoping she'd feel a bit better about coming back to Wentworth today. I was looking forward to seeing what her artwork would be like. Her modesty at her sister's praise yesterday made me feel that Prue did have a talent, even though I hadn't seen any proof.

When it was time for the end-of-the-day art lesson, I'd almost forgotten why I'd been looking forward to it earlier. It was only when I realised someone was missing from the class that I remembered. I carried on with the lesson, getting art materials and paint pots out of the cupboards to demonstrate a still life. It had now been at least ten minutes since I'd taken the register. And Prue King hadn't turned up. Once I'd finished demonstrating to the class, I left everyone to get started while I walked around to offer advice or help to anyone struggling. I liked the mayhem of a messy art room - somehow it was soothing. It seemed to distract me from my mess of a personal life. Or lack of one, I should say. I couldn't help glancing at my watch every so often, wondering why Prue hadn't turned up. Was she sick? Did she go home early? I felt strangely disappointed - not in her - just that I really wanted to see what her work would be like. Oh well, I thought. Maybe I wasn't missing much, anyway. Maybe I was imagining she'd be this amazing artist when in reality she was the opposite. Maybe I'd been building up all this hope to make up for my emptiness at home.

I distracted myself from my thoughts by cracking jokes, making the class burst out laughing. They reacted as if I was some famous comedian or something. It cheered me up somewhat that at least I was useful in that respect, if nothing else. I walked around, moving pots and various books around, creating spontaneous still life demonstrations for anyone who seemed stuck. I stopped when one of the pupils – Rita – started chatting to me, laughing and joking. As she spoke I saw a flash of red in the corner of my eye, just like yesterday when I nearly ran Prue over. Without even turning round I knew it was her. As soon as Rita turned away to chat to someone else, I turned and called Prue's name just loud enough for her to hear, without drawing anyone's attention to her. She appeared to be trying to slip back out the door unseen. Why was she leaving?

She stopped short, not turning round. "Hi!" I said, smiling. I went over to her, happy to see her, though she didn't seem all too happy to see me. She seemed embarrassed, her cheeks flooding red. "Did you get lost?" I asked, concluding to myself that must be why she was so late.

"No. Well. Sort of," she stammered.

"Don't worry. It took me weeks to find my way around. Tell you what, I'll draw you a little map." I said, already drawing it out in my mind, creating all the teachers as caricatures and recreating all the classrooms. I even had a red ribbon to tie up the map with when I was done, to match her red checked dress. Prue smiled at me when I said that, seeming to relax a little.

"Now. We're setting up still life compositions, ones that hopefully reflect our personality, lifestyle, hobbies, whatever." I looked at her. "A still life is a fancy name for a lot of assorted objects. Look, here's some postcard reproductions." Prue shuffled them quietly. I wondered if she recognised any of them. "Let's find you a little quiet spot in the midst of this bedlam." I said, glancing round. I saw an empty desk near Rita.

"How about over there?" said Prue, nodding at the corner where Sarah was splodging red paint around, her tongue sticking out with concentration.

"Great. Yes, keep Sarah company – but I think you'll need some kind of overall. Sarah gets a bit over-enthusiastic sometimes." I said.

"I haven't got one." said Prue, looking down at her dress. "I don't care if I get covered in paint, it won't matter in the slightest." I raised my eyebrows but didn't argue. _That_ was something I hadn't heard before.

I got her some paper, paintbrushes and six new pots of paint. "OK, now it's down to you," I said. I left her to it, strolling round the class, looking at what the other pupils were coming up with. To be honest, I wasn't really all that bothered about what the others were doing. I knew what their abilities were already. But Prue was new, and I was curious as to what her still life would be like. Somehow I knew it would be good. I talked to the others; I rearranged, and suggested improvements, trying to control the class. I spotted a Red Delicious apple and thought I'd use it as an excuse to see Prue's work, under the pretence of helping Sarah out with her art. I grabbed a chilli pepper and a red china teacup along with the apple and brought them over to Sarah.

"Hey, more red things for you to paint. Let's mix up your palette and get lots of lovely different shades of red. A bit of yellow there – go on, splodge it around with your paintbrush, that's right. There, that's a perfect pepper colour." I said. Sarah laughed happily.

"I love you, Rax," she said when I let her take a bite of the apple.

"You're a very sweet girl, Sarah," I said. "Don't take a bite of the pepper now, it'll be much too hot and you'll be in serious trouble with your teeth if you bite my china teacup." Sarah giggled at my joke. Then I went over to Prue. I stood silently, looking at her still life. She'd created a beautiful painting, cleverly including art materials, the postcards I'd lent her earlier, and a copy of _Jane Eyre_. Prue sat quietly while I observed her work. I found it hard to take my eyes off her painting. I hadn't seen art that good in my class in a long time, even from the older students. I was about to raise my eyebrows to show how impressed I was, but I didn't want to seem too shocked, in case I offended her. I half-waited for her to look up at me, but she never did.

Daisy, one of the other pupils, was watching. "She's done it wrong, hasn't she, Rax? You're not meant to paint the pots and brushes, you're meant to do your own still life, aren't you? Like me with my purple daisies."

"No, she's got it absolutely spot on _right_ ," I said. "You and your Michaelmas daisies are right for you, Daisy. Prudence feels that art materials and books are right for her."

"Boring," said Daisy, pulling a face.

"So it's OK?" Prue whispered, still not looking up at me.

"You know it is," I said. I paused. I had to tell her. "You're going to be the girl that makes my teaching worthwhile." I wanted her to realise how good her work was; she seemed to have no idea how talented she was. It amazed me.

Over the next few days we continued with the still life project, everyone's painting evolving nicely. I was curious to see how Prue's still life could possibly be improved as it was already great, but somehow she made it better and better as each lesson went by. I noticed a few of my favourite books in her painting, nodding at each title with a smile – _The Bell Jar_ , _The Catcher in the Rye_ , _Tess of the D'Urbervilles_ , _Frankenstein_ and _The Chrysalids_.

"Mrs Godfrey would be proud of you," I said. _I_ certainly was.

"Mrs Godfrey _hates_ me," said Prue.

"No she doesn't!"

"She does, she finds me fantastically irritating. She's forever putting me down and punishing me. I don't know why, because I try really hard in English. Well, I did. I can't be bothered now."

"Keep bothering, Prue. Maybe you disconcert her. She's not used to girls like you." Talented girls who had a lot to offer and didn't get nearly enough credit for it. I was genuinely taken aback that Mrs Godfrey seemed to disapprove of Prue. I didn't understand how she could feel that way, but perhaps I was a bit biased. After all, I was passionate about art and Prue was obviously so strong in that arena. For all I knew, she was hopeless at English, though I was certain that couldn't be the case. Not with all those classics she'd included in her painting. She must love those books as much as I did. I remembered how much Marianne berated me for cramming the shelves with my novels. I tried to convince her to read a few, telling her how much she'd enjoy them. I may as well have been talking to a brick wall.

"I'm not used to women like her," said Prue. She paused. "I wish all the teachers were like you, Mr Raxberry."

"Shameless flattery will probably make you teacher's pet," I said, laughing. Then I looked at her more seriously.

"Are you finding it all a bit of a struggle?"

"A bit," she replied.

"And someone in the staff room said your dad's not well at the moment?"

"He's had a stroke. He's getting a bit better now, but still can't move much, or say many words." I felt for her, I really did. I'd never gone through having a sick parent myself, but I certainly empathised.

"It must be horrible for you," I said. "If it gets too much at any time, use the art room as a bolt hole. Painting is excellent therapy. Here, this should help you find your way around." I tucked the map I'd promised to draw for her into her school bag. I'd rolled the paper up like a scroll, fastening it with the red ribbon as I'd planned. I just hoped it would help her, that all my crazy drawings on the map would aid her somewhat in finding her way around. It might even cheer her up if she found my little caricatures funny. Now that I knew her a bit better, the map was also a sort of thank-you for being such a hardworking student. It had certainly inspired me to start painting again. I'd even got my old sketchbook out again, after weeks of neglect. I hid my sketches away from Marianne now, not bothering to tell her when I made a new addition. She'd been so nonchalant the last few times I'd shown her my work that I became fed up and stopped showing her.

One day I was walking along the corridor when I saw a group of girls crowding around Prue. They were taunting her, grabbing at her clothes and laughing at her. I waved them out of the way as I said, "Hey, guys, make room for a member of the hallowed staff," and they laid off her. They sauntered off, not too bothered whether I'd seen or not. Then I stopped in front of the notice board, pretending to be busy until I could get a moment with Prue. My back was to her, but I turned and went over just as she started walking away.

"Were they giving you a hard time?" I said.

"No, no!" she said, blushing. I knew she was lying, but I didn't press further, not wanting to embarrass her any more than she already was. I simply nodded. I walked along the corridor beside her, talking about an arts programme this evening.

"It's on cable telly. Do you get it? If not, I could maybe video it for you," I suggested.

"That's very kind, Mr Raxberry, but actually. I don't have any kind of television, or a video either," she said. I nodded again, not surprised at all.

"So that's how you find the time to read so much," I said. "I should get rid of our television. My little boy watches endless horrible cartoons. I'm sure it's not good for him. Maybe that's why he keeps trying to beat up his baby sister."

"You've got children," said Prue, voice quiet.

"My little boy's three. He's called Harry. And Lily's six months old. Hang on." I felt in the back pocket of my jeans for my wallet so I could show her a photo.

"Here they are," I said, showing her a photo of Harry holding Lily tightly.

"They're lovely." said Prue. "Do you have a photo of your wife too?"

I paused a moment, thinking. "Yes. Yes, there's one of all of us in here _somewhere_." I fumbled through five-pound notes and travel cards and stamps and found a snapshot from our holiday in Greece a little while back. It was of all four of us, walking along an esplanade, squinting in the strong sunshine. I was pushing Lily in her buggy. Her sunhat had fallen sideways, almost totally obscuring her face, but she was kicking her legs contentedly. Harry was scowling under his baseball cap, hanging on to Marianne's hand, whining to be carried.

"What's her name?" asked Prue.

"Marianne."

"Oh. That's nice," she said. "I wish I had a pretty name like that."

"What's wrong with Prudence?"

"What's _right_ with it? It's an awful Victorian virtue name. My dad used to be very religious. He really went overboard. I'm Prudence Charity and my sister's Grace Patience, can you believe it?"

"I've got a terrible name too. Keith. How naff is that, especially as I used to have a bit of a lisp as a child. Imagine! "My name's Keef." Thank God most people called me Rax. No, you're lucky, Prudence and Grace are quaintly beautiful names. They make me think of little Victorian girls in pinafores and button boots."

"Exactly," said Prue. "My clothes are almost as old-fashioned!"

"I think your clothes kind of suit you, Prudence," I told her. They were unique, just like her.

"I hate them," she said. "I can't wait to get the proper school uniform, but it's going to take ages before we can afford it all."

I paused. Maybe she could babysit Harry and Lily? It would certainly help her out financially, and encourage Marianne and I to spend more time together. God knows, we needed it. If we didn't do something now to salvage what was left of our marriage, it might become too late.

"Perhaps… perhaps you could earn a bit yourself?" I said.

"I don't know how. I can't get a Saturday job because I have to help in the shop and I don't get paid for that. I'd do a paper round but the shop down our street doesn't do deliveries anymore. I can't think of anything else I could do."

"Babysitting?" I said.

"I don't know anyone with babies."

"You know me," I said.

She stared at me. "Do you really mean it?"

"Why not? Marianne and I need to get out more. I don't think we've had one proper evening out since Lily was born. How about it? Maybe Friday? Say seven thirty? We'll be back by eleven and I'll drive you home, of course. Do you think your mother would mind?"

"Of course she won't mind!" said Prue.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Prudence told me she could babysit on Friday, seeming like she'd almost forgotten about it. "Oh, thanks," I said casually, as if she'd just returned a paintbrush. I told myself her babysitting was no big deal. She'd earn some money for her family and I'd get time with my wife. But deep down I knew I was lying to myself. I felt strangely drawn to Prudence. Despite myself, I did genuinely want to see a bit more of her. It was just a bit of babysitting. She probably wouldn't want to come back again anyway once she saw the state my home was in, what with the kids and everything. The whole thing might scare her off from ever coming back. I hoped it wouldn't though. If anything it would drive home just how bad my home life was, and jolt me into doing something drastic. Like leaving with bags packed in the middle of the night, a note left on the fridge for Marianne to weep over the next morning, Lily strapped to her side. No. I couldn't do that to them. But I was once inches from ringing my solicitor. The only thing that had stopped me was the thought of Harry and Lily being taken away from me, Marianne getting full custody. Despite how much I often wanted to walk out, I couldn't do it to the kids. I didn't want to be the bad man Harry cried about in his nightmares, clinging onto my arm with tears dribbling from his eyes.

I told Prudence my address, 34 Laurel Grove, and that it was on the number 37 bus route. I wrote it down on the back of her school jotter.

"Fine, no problem," said Prue.

Friday rolled around. I went through it in autopilot again, barely noticing when I pulled up to my house at the end of the day. I was so preoccupied I almost forgot Prue was coming to babysit. The doorbell rang at seven thirty on the dot.

"Keith, get the door will you?" Marianne called down from the bathroom.

"OK!" I called back. _Not as if my hands are tied, or anything,_ I thought as I picked Lily up mid-change, perched her on my hand and rushed for the door. It was a stupid thought; I knew Prue would need me to answer as she'd never been round before. I opened the door to see her standing in front of me with long, curly dark hair billowing over her shoulders. She smiled at me, then looked at Lily.

"Hi, Prue. Sorry, we're in the middle of a nappy change, aren't we, Lily?"

Lily grizzled irritably. Prue held out her hand but Lily leaned away, butting her little head against my shoulder before starting to cry. "Take no notice, she's tired," I said. "Come in, come in." As was I. Tired of life, of this routine. I just wanted to escape, to run away from it all and start again. Maybe I could. Just take off on my own, no distractions, nothing to hold me down…

Prue stepped into the hall and followed me towards the living room. I realised what a mess it was, toys and crayons strewn all over the floor. I felt embarrassed. "Sorry! We'll get cleared up in a jiffy. I'll just shove a nappy on Lily. Marianne's upstairs giving Harry his bath. She'll be down in a minute. Would you like a coffee or a Coke or something? And I'd better show you how the television works." I rattled on; Lily still balanced on my hand. God, what must she think of me now, what with a half-naked child on my arm, bleating all this suburban daddy stuff? It was a wonder she hadn't bolted for the door already.

"It's OK," said Prue, cool as a cucumber. She didn't seem at all fazed at the mess she was standing in. "I'll clear up the living room if you want to go and do the baby."

I smiled at her gratefully, starting to relax. I headed upstairs with Lily, hoping Marianne had finished washing Harry so she could help Prue out downstairs. She shouldn't have to clean up our mess, that wasn't part of the deal. She wasn't our _maid_. Thankfully I didn't need to say anything because Marianne dumped Harry on me and then stomped downstairs without a word. Charming.

I placed Lily on the baby changer and then lifted Harry on to his bed. I decided to sort out Lily's nappy first, hoping Harry would wait. As if that was going to happen. No sooner had I sat him down did he start screaming, "Mum! You come back now! I need you _now_! I want a story NOW!"

I tried to shush him as Marianne called up the stairs, "Can't you see to him, Keith?"

Harry continued shrieking at me. Marianne shouted up at me again. "For God's _sake_ , Keith, can't you read Harry his story?"

"I'm changing Lily's nappy at this exact moment in time," I called back.

"Can't you do both? Haven't you heard of multi-tasking?"

I ignored her then. Arguing was useless, and I didn't want to bicker in front of Prue. We'd set a bad enough impression already. I picked Lily up, settling down on Harry's bed with her on my lap. She was still nappyless. I cuddled Harry against my chest as I fiddled about with his story book. Prue entered the room as Harry started muttering, "Don't want you reading, Daddy, I want _Mum_."

"What lovely children," said Prue warmly, smiling at us.

"Who's that big girl? I don't like her," said Harry.

"That's Prudence. She's going to look after you and Lily tonight," I said. Harry insisted he didn't want to be looked after by her, he didn't like her, he wanted _Mum_. Marianne came running, half in, half out of a navy top. She'd teamed it with her white trousers. I'd thought the woollen dress she was wearing before was decent enough, even if it did look too tight on her.

"I'm here, Harry. It's OK, sweetie." She took a deep breath. "For God's sake, Keith! _I'll_ sort the kids. You go and get changed."

"Changed?"

"You're not going to wear those awful jeans to La Terrazza?"

"OK, OK."

Marianne picked Lily up. "There now, come to Mummy. Who needs a nappy to cover her little pink bot?" she cooed. Lily kicked her legs and then weed all down Marianne's white trousers. She squealed and said it was all my fault. She stamped off to get changed, a wet, squirmy Lily under one arm. Prue looked at me. I looked at her. We were both trying not to burst out laughing. I raised my eyebrows at her and then went off to get changed. When we were finally ready to go, Marianne popped in to see Prue, who was sat on Harry's bed with Lily on her lap.

"You're sure you're going to be all right, Prudence?" said Marianne. "You seem very _young._ "

"I'm fifteen," said Prue.

"Oh dear, is that all?" said Marianne doubtfully, pulling down her skirt. She was back in her woollen dress. "You have done lots of babysitting before, haven't you?"

"I've been babysitting my little sister for years," said Prue. "Don't worry, we'll be fine."

We left and I drove us to the restaurant. I didn't really want to go out, much preferring to get back to my sketchpad and continue working on my drawings. I'd started a new one recently, just a few days ago, actually. I'd drawn a slim girl with thick curly hair and big dark eyes. She was staring into space, in her own little world. I'd lightly suggested the check pattern on her dress with my charcoal. It was Prudence. I could see her clearly in my mind as I was drawing her, as if she was standing in front of me. I kept thinking of that drawing intermittently throughout our meal. It was all I could do to stop myself going mad, what with Marianne chattering away. I couldn't get a word in edgeways. I gave up after a while, simply nodding along whenever she told another story about one of her friend's troubles. _What about our troubles?_ I wanted to yell at her. _What about our relationship?_ Despite my frustration I was starting to care less and less about our marriage every passing day.

When we arrived home it was just after eleven. Marianne practically jumped on Prue the minute we got through the door. "How were the kids? Did they wake? Did you give Lily her bottle? Did Harry want you to read to him?" she said in a rush.

"They've been fine," said Prue. "Lily cried around ten and I warmed her bottle, but she was asleep again before I could feed her. There hasn't been a peep out of Harry."

"Great, great! I'd better go and wake him for a wee then, otherwise we'll have a wet bed. Here's your money, Prue. Thanks so much. I hope you can maybe babysit again some time?"

Prue hesitated. For a second I thought she'd say no.

"I'd love to." she said. She didn't meet my eyes as she put on her jacket and went towards the door. Did she think I expected her to get the bus home? I'd definitely told her I'd give her a lift.

"Hey, where are you going, Prue?" I called after her.

"Home."

"Well, hang on, I'm giving you a lift."

"No, no, it's OK. I'll get the bus. It's not far, I'll be fine, honestly. Bye!" she said.

"I'm taking you home in the car. Stop arguing."

She stopped. Her mother would kill me if I left her high and dry and something dreadful happened to her. Besides, I'd promised her I'd drive her home.

We walked down my garden path together quietly. I opened the car door for her. "Here we are," I said. "Oh God, excuse the kids' rubbish. We don't even notice it anymore."

I got in the driver's seat and Prue sat next to me at the front. "Seat belt," I said to her. She stared at me, looked at her lap and dithered anxiously. I leaned over to pull on the strap and fixed it for her. "There now, safely strapped in," I said, feeling like I was in daddy-mode again. I started up the car. "What did you do with yourself this evening, then?"

"Oh, I read a bit, did a little homework. Whatever," said Prue.

"I hope it wasn't too lonely for you. You can always bring a friend with you another time, or maybe your sister?" I said lightly.

"No! No, I'm fine by myself, I don't mind a bit," she said quickly. I looked over at her, nodding. "I know. I liked my own company as a kid too. I used to go fishing most weekends. It wasn't to catch the fish; I used to feel sick and sorry if I ever _caught_ anything. I just wanted to be by myself for a bit."

"Do you still go fishing now?"

"Chance would be a fine thing! At the weekends we do the Sainsbury's run, and then I look after the kids while Marianne sees her girlfriends, and then on Sunday we drive all the way to Basingstoke to see her parents for a Sunday roast, and often Marianne's sister's there with _her_ husband and kids, so we're all very busy playing Happy Families." I made sure my voice was light and even, carefully hiding my real feelings on our rigid weekend routine. I didn't want to bore or burden her. It definitely bored me, even as I listened to myself talking about it. But I was glad for the conversation. Prue seemed genuinely interested in what I said, hanging on my every word. I wondered why she was so fascinated, though she was probably like this with everyone she interacted with. A straight-up kind person. She was a good listener, though the kids at school didn't seem to appreciate it. She was normally on her own whenever I saw her. Either that or being picked on by her peers. I didn't understand why. Prue seemed such a lovely kid. She was just misunderstood because she was different, like I was when I was her age. Maybe it was an artist thing. We just preferred our own company so we could be introspective and produce spontaneous outbursts of artistic greatness to express our inner longings. Or maybe that was just me.

Prue chatted to me about fishing, asking about lines and hooks and bait. Then we turned into her street and she directed me to her dad's shop.

"Oh, it's this shop! I've been here. I've had a good browse in the art section, but someone gave me a sarcastic ticking off for using the shop like a library." I paused. "Would that have been your dad?" I asked, feeling stupid for being so insensitive.

"That would _definitely_ have been my dad," said Prue. "No wonder we have hardly any customers. He's always so rude to them."

"How _is_ your dad?"

"Well, he can't talk much still, and he can't really walk either," she sniffed.

Oh no. I hoped I hadn't made her cry, that was the last thing I wanted. "Oh Prue, I'm so sorry," I said. I felt an urge to comfort her in some way. A hug would be inappropriate, so I reached over and covered her hand with mine. I gave it a gentle squeeze, and then put my hand back on the steering wheel. I drummed my fingers on it. We sat still, neither of us saying anything, staring straight ahead. Part of me wanted to talk to her a little while longer, but I knew it was time for her to go.

"Well," I finally said. I swallowed. "Perhaps you'd better go in now."

"Yes. Thank you for taking me home, Mr Raxberry."

That made me look at her. "Hey, what's with this formal Mr Raxberry thing? Everyone at school calls me Rax – you know that."

"OK then. Rax." She giggled. "It sounds funny."

"Better than Keith."

"Why doesn't your wife call you Rax?"

"Oh. She's known me too long. We were childhood sweethearts."

"You knew each other when you were at school?"

"From when we were fourteen?"

" _My_ age?"

"Yep."

"Goodness."

"I take it you haven't got a sweetheart?"

"No!"

"I'm glad to hear it. Off you go then. See you at school."

"Yes. Thank you. Goodbye… Rax." She giggled again, and then undid her seatbelt and jumped out the car. I waited until she let herself in the shop door, making sure she got in safely. She turned and waved and I waved back and then drove off. She lingered in my thoughts most of the way home. She was going through so much. I hoped we weren't burdening her, what with the kids and everything. Not to mention having to see Marianne and I playing out our relationship dynamics. Thankfully, she didn't seem fazed by any of it. It would be nice to have her babysit again, and I enjoyed our chat on the way home tonight. Come to think of it, I probably enjoyed my ten minute chat with Prue more than an entire evening's worth with my wife. But that was an entirely different story.

I pulled up outside the house and switched off the engine, letting out a long breath, reluctant to leave the car. Would Marianne notice if I didn't come home? Or would she be fast asleep, not even thinking about me? I didn't really care either way. I went inside and up the stairs, into our bedroom. That night I lay flat on my back, staring up at the dark ceiling. _What am I going to do?_ I asked silently in the dark. Marianne lay facing away from me, sleeping silently, her chest slowly rising and falling. I sighed, and closed my eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

On Monday morning, I was more eager than usual to get to work. I wasn't entirely sure why, but I just wanted to get back to teaching. It would surely be more interesting than the weekend I'd just had, walking round Sainsbury's as usual on Saturday, and going to Basingstoke on Sunday. Same old routine. Nothing ever changing. For ages I'd longed for something interesting or remotely new to happen to me. But as time wore on I realised it probably wasn't going to happen without a concerted effort.

I walked along the school corridor and saw two girls standing outside Miss Wilmott's office either side of the door, heads down. They both had dark curly hair and sullen expressions. One of them was Rita Rogers. The other was Prudence King. I stopped in front of Prue and tilted my head, raising an eyebrow. "Are you in disgrace?" I said. Prue nodded. I made little tutting noises, showing her I wasn't taking it seriously. I gave her a sympathetic smile and walked on. I tutted at Rita in a friendly fashion too, but not in the same way. When I turned round at the end of the corridor I turned to give Prue a quick wave.

The next day, I had a lesson with Prue's class. There seemed to be a palpably tense atmosphere, somehow involving her. I didn't know exactly what had happened, but I made sure I didn't treat her any differently. I left her to continue with her still life, looking forward to seeing her progress. It looked amazing so far. I gave her an occasional nod or quick tip: "Try a glimmer of white there…"; "Is that shadow really black? What other colours is it made of?"; "Maybe you want to suggest the book titles, rather than actually print them out?"

I spent time chatting to the other students, talking football with the boys and rock banks with the girls. I had a conversation with Rita and Aimee, but I wasn't fully engaged, not one hundred per cent present. Part of me was concerned about Prue, who seemed far more isolated than usual, not quite herself. I wanted to talk to her, see if she was all right. But I wouldn't do it now, what with the atmosphere at the moment. I would wait until we could speak more privately at the end. I almost didn't get the chance; as soon as the bell went she streaked out the door. Where was she going? Did she think leaving her mess everywhere was OK?

"Prue! Prue King, come back!" I called after her. She was right out in the playground already. She turned, trudging slowly back. "You don't just throw your brushes down all clogged up with paint!" I said. "Come on, you know better than that. You can help me clear up all the paint pots too."

Behind me, Rita said "Serves you right, slag," which annoyed me, because it was really unfair. I wasn't at all angry with Prue, even though she'd tried to make a run for it like that. She didn't deserve such foul abuse. Prue started washing out brushes at the sink, her back to everyone. I saw a tear dribble down her cheek. "Hey, you're not crying, are you?" I said. "Oh Prue, you didn't think I was cross with you, did you?"

Prue nodded, tears streaming.

"Don't!" I said, picking up a cloth and dabbing gently at her eyes. "Whoops! Now you've got black paint on your eyes. You'll look like Lovely Rita if you don't watch out."

" _Lovely_ Rita?"

"Like the Beatles song." I sang a couple of lines from the song. Now that the rest of the class was bustling out, I could find out what was really going on.

"So, what on earth's been going on between you two? Why is everyone treating you as if you've got bubonic plague?" I said.

"They think I stole Toby away from Rita."

"And did you?"

"No! Well, not really. I did go to McDonald's with him, but just to help him with his reading. It was all his idea."

"I bet it was. So you're in the doghouse with everyone now?"

"They didn't like me much before but now they positively hate me. And I thought you did too, because you hardly talked to me at all and yet you spent ages with Rita."

"Yes, because if I'd made a big fuss of you and your wonderful painting it wouldn't really have increased your popularity. What would you like me to do, Prue? Shall I have a word with Miss Wilmott?"

"No!"

"What about your form teacher?"

"Absolutely not."

"There's meant to be a student counselling service now, one of Miss Wilmott's new ideas for Wentworth. You could have a chat with them."

"I don't want to have a chat with anyone, thank you," said Prue, swilling out the sink. "I'm fine. I don't care about them."

"You were crying."

"I was crying because I thought _you_ were cross with me."

"I'm not cross with you." I paused. "Anything but." Then I started putting the paint jars away with unnecessary fuss and clatter, not looking at her. I hoped she wouldn't pick up on my nerves. I tried to psych myself up to ask if she could babysit again. Would she say yes?

"So, are you able to babysit again this Friday?" I said.

"Yes please."

"Then it's a date."

I looked forward to Fridays now, rather than dreading them. Instead of trying to distract myself from the dull weekend ahead, I anticipated Prue coming over. It was nice to get out the house too, knowing the kids were being well looked after. I couldn't deny that I really enjoyed talking to Prue while I drove her home. She was fascinating, and so talented. I'd never met anyone quite like her. She listened to me, she engaged me in conversation, she made me laugh. She made me feel _good_. Until recently, I'd forgotten what it felt like to be… important. We got on so well it was scary.

I didn't say much to Prue in front of my wife and kids. I waited until we were alone, in the car driving home. It would look strange, talking as much as we did, if Marianne saw. We weren't doing anything wrong, as such, but I didn't want her involved all the same. It probably wouldn't do me any favours.

Prue and I talked about a range of things, from art to literature and everything under the sun. Conversation just flowed between us effortlessly. With Prue, I didn't have to put on a show. She accepted and liked me for who I was, without trying to change me. She never moaned or complained. She respected me. I found myself getting quietly excited as I anticipated our chats in the car outside her dad's shop. She was pretty much someone I'd call a solid friend, even though she was only a child. I often wished she was older. Then maybe… what? What was I even thinking? She was a child of fourteen, and one of my pupils. It could never be any more than friendship. But I couldn't help wondering if things would be different if she were twenty-four. Then maybe we… or I…

No. There was no point thinking that way. But as time went by, these thoughts became more and more persistent, along with the undeniable increase in my heart rate every time I saw her. _It's the normal happiness you feel at seeing a good friend_ , I told myself over and over, until I was almost convinced. But a small, quiet voice in the back of my mind said: _this is wrong. You need to stop this before you do something stupid. How long until you get it through your thick head? You can't have her - you're a married man with children. Leave her alone._

But deep in the pit of my stomach, something strong and warm pulled me towards her. I couldn't help myself. I had to see her.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

I shied away from talking to Prue about how I felt _now_ , but I talked easily about my childhood. I told her about my first big box of felt tip pens and how I'd spent hours kneeling up at the kitchen table, colouring the seaside with big white-tipped waves and little red boats and v-shaped seagulls flying round the rays of my yellow sun. I'd drawn myself standing on a rock licking a giant strawberry ice cream with chocolate flakes sticking out like horns. My mother entered it for a children's art competition and it had come second.

"Another boy at my school came first, and I couldn't help minding dreadfully. I managed not to show it in front of him, but I cried at home – how pathetic is that!"

"But very understandable."

"My mum understood too, and had my picture specially framed. I think she's still got it hanging in her kitchen."

"Has she got any of your later work, things you did at art school or afterwards?"

"No, I think she feels I went off dreadfully after the age of seven. She may well be right."

"And do you still like strawberry ice cream with chocolate flakes?"

"You bet I do!"

Then we got onto our favourite foods. I couldn't believe Prue had never eaten a pizza or a chop suey or a chicken tandoori. "I'll have to treat you sometime," I said.

"Yes please!"

I was just humouring her, of course. But I imagined what it would be like, me taking Prue out to a restaurant just the two of us. It would be totally wrong, given the circumstances, but totally right at the same time. I found myself wishing Marianne was more like Prue. It made me feel horribly guilty, like I was betraying her or something.

Prue sometimes used elaborate phrases, or would strike a pose. Sometimes I teased her, only playfully of course. I found it cute, but she really didn't have to try so hard.

"Don't laugh at me," said Prue.

"I'm not laughing. Well. Just a little bit," I said.

"I'm simply trying to impress you,"

"You don't have to try, Prue. You do that already,"

"Really?"

"You're a funny kid."

"I'm not funny. And I'm _not_ a kid," said Prue, flouncing out of the car.

"Hey! Don't go off in a huff!" I said, winding down my window. She stuck her head back inside. "Who's huffy? Not me!" she said. Then she blew me a kiss goodbye. She didn't touch me. But it made me uncomfortable. I started worrying that our relationship meant something more to Prue that I'd initially thought. It was my fault. I needed to set her straight next time, make sure she knew that nothing deeper could ever happen between us. No matter how much she (or I) wanted it to.

I became so worried that I was quiet this last time, driving her home. She tried to introduce interesting topics of conversation, but I was too preoccupied to fully engage.

"Perhaps you could park the car up the road a bit, instead of just outside the shop?" Prue suggested. "If Mum hears the car she'll wonder why I'm not coming in straight away."

"And why _aren't_ you coming in straight away?" I said.

"Because I want to talk to you!"

"I know, I know. And I want to talk to you too, Prue. But we're starting to act as if… as if there's something between us."

"There is," she said.

"Well, yes, I know we get on really well, and it's a privilege for me to help you with your art, but that's all it can be, Prue. You do know that, don't you?"

"I know. But what do you really want inside? What if you weren't my teacher?"

"It doesn't matter what I feel inside."

"It matters to me. _You_ matter to me."

"Don't, Prue. Look, this is all my fault. I should have kept my distance. You're going through a difficult time, you're feeling very vulnerable, your dad's not well. It's not surprising you've got overly attached to me." Who was I trying to convince, me or her?

"I'm not _attached_." She took a deep breath. "I love you, you know I do."

Oh God, she didn't really love me… did she?

"Prue. Look, you're a very sweet girl—"

"Don't treat me like Sarah."

"Oh dear God." I put my head in my hands, resting against the steering wheel. I hated myself. What have I done? What have I _done_?

"It's all right," said Prue. "I won't make things difficult for you. I won't tell anyone else the way I feel. I won't do anything at all. But please, won't you tell me if you love me just a little bit?"

"I'm married, I've got two small children. I'm a teacher, you're my pupil – you're fourteen year's old, for God's sake."

"Do you love me?"

"Prue, please, stop this. Go indoors now, your mother will be wondering where you are. Off you go."

I waited until she was out of the car, standing on the pavement. Then I whispered one word as I drove away. She couldn't hear me, of course, though I wanted her to.

I said yes.

Because it was the truth. I could deny it to myself all I wanted, but it didn't change the fact. I'd fallen in love with her.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I avoided Prue at school. I couldn't risk anyone finding out about us. I felt horrible for ignoring her, but I couldn't think of any other way. It was too risky. No one could know what we shared between us. Of course, nothing had actually happened, but it so easily could have. And if I spent any length of time alone with Prue now, I wasn't sure I was strong enough to resist any advances. That was what scared me most of all – it wasn't her feelings that had me on edge right now. It was mine. The way she'd looked at me on Friday night when she told me she loved me, the way her dark gaze held and captured me. It was all I could do to stop my arms from reaching out and pulling her face to mine. But another part of me felt disgusting for even thinking that way. Is this how low I had become? At the first available opportunity, I would end it. Whatever "it" was, it had to be stopped. Before it was too late.

I barely nodded when I passed Prue in the corridor. I said nothing when she started a new art project. The class had started working on aspects of Christmas. I gave Prue's work a quick glance whenever I went to have a chat with Sarah. I recognised the Botticelli Nativity she was painting and from what I saw, it looked lovely. But I was so paranoid I felt terrified of uttering a single word to her in case someone misconstrued it. I would look at her work more closely later on, when I was alone. Most likely, nobody suspected a thing. Yet I felt as if Miss Wilmott was watching my every move. My stomach was tight, my jaw tense. I felt as if I was about to go on trial. I would be if I continued any kind of relationship with Prue. What if she made a move one night and I was too weak to protest? I would lose everything – my job, my career, my reputation. And my family. It didn't bear thinking about.

I didn't mention babysitting at all in the last art lesson of the week, but then, at the end, when everyone else was leaving, I asked Prue if I could have a word with her.

"Look at her!" Rita said to her friend Aimee. "Look at the smug little smile on the slag's face, just because old Rax wants her."

Shit.

I paused and stood still. She couldn't know anything, could she?

"Yeah, talk about teacher's pet. _I_ don't think she's that good at art, she just copies stuff," said Aimee. I breathed out. It was OK.

"You shut up, you lot. You're just jealous of Prue's talent," said Toby. This naturally encouraged them to be far more vitriolic.

"Hey, you guys, how about conducting your slanging match outside in the playground?" I said.

"Prue _is_ talented, isn't she, Rax?" Toby persisted. "That Christmas Jesus scene is brilliant, don't you think so?"

"Yes I do," I said. "But perhaps we shouldn't keep telling Prue that or she'll get big-headed."

"Her head's as big as an elephant's bum already," Rita said, and flounced off, surrounded by Aimee, Megan and Jess. Toby hung back, waiting for Prue. "You go _on_ , Toby," said Prue. He sloped off, looking miserable. Prue sighed. Then she looked at me.

"Do you really think I'm talented?" she asked.

"Yes, you're brilliant," I said flatly. She _was,_ but this wasn't the time for compliments.

"Shall I come round usual time tonight?" she asked.

"Well. That's why I wanted a word. We won't need you to do any babysitting tonight."

I was standing by the sink, the taps full on, washing out the paints and palettes. She went very quiet, and then mumbled something I couldn't make out. Then she said, "You've not got someone else to babysit, have you?"

"No, no. We're just not going out, that's all." I stayed at the sink, splashing the palettes around although they were pristine. I couldn't bring myself to look at her. I felt terrible for turning her away. Lord knows I wanted her to come tonight and if I saw her face I knew I'd crumble. I had to stay firm.

"Why?"

"We fancied a quiet night in, watching _The_ _West Wing_ with a takeaway pizza," I said.

"Oh." She waited. " _Next_ Friday then?"

I stood still a moment. Then I squared my shoulders. "Maybe not, Prue," I said. I finally turned round properly. My face was tense, my lips pressed tightly together. I licked them, wiping my hands on my jeans. "I don't think the babysitting is really a good idea."

"But the children _like_ me. Harry loves me reading him stories, and I can always make Lily laugh. Marianne likes me too – we have all these chats together while you're getting ready."

"I know, I know, you're great at babysitting and my whole family adores you. But I just don't think it's a very good idea anymore."

"Why?"

"You _know_ why, Prue," I said impatiently.

"Because I love you?"

"Don't!" I said, looking round anxiously. I was terrified we were being overheard. I took a deep breath. "That's why we have to stop this. It's dangerous for both of us."

"Dangerous for you," said Prue. "You're scared you'll lose your job if anyone finds out."

"Well, of course I am. I've got a family to support. But it's not just the job. I don't want to upset you – you're only fourteen, and you're taking our friendship so seriously."

"Are you still trying to pretend that's all it is?"

"Yes. It's a close friendship, nothing more," said Rax.

She started to cry.

"For heaven's sake, Prue, stop that. It's true. We haven't _done_ anything."

"Is it because I look so weird?"

"Stop it!"

"Well, you stop it," she sobbed. "I _have_ to babysit, I _have_ to see you. It's not the same at school, _you're_ not the same. You keep on and on about my age."

"Well, you're still a _child_."

"If you start saying all that only-fourteen stuff again I'll start screaming."

"Don't!" My heart jumped in fear, so highly strung I thought she really would scream the place down.

"The only real time we have together is our time in the car," said Prue. "Ten minutes, once a week. That's not too much to ask, is it?"

"Twenty minutes. Sometimes half an hour."

"What have you been doing, timing us to the exact second? 'Uh-oh, I've given this girl ten and a half minutes, warning bells, she'll misinterpret my innocent caring teacherly concern as something much more serious and scary so shove her out the car quick.'"

"You're being silly now," I said, my mouth twitching. I started laughing, shaking my head at her. "You're a terrible girl, Prue," I went on. "You won't ever act the way you're supposed to. You just say whatever you think, act in the rashest way possible. Dear God, your dad must have been having a joke calling you Prudence. You're the exact opposite!"

"Well, I'm glad he didn't call me Rash. Imagine, especially if I went through a spotty stage," said Prue, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweater.

"Don't _do_ that. You're worse than Harry sometimes," I said, finding her a paper towel. I kept her carefully at arm's length.

"Please let me babysit tonight," she said. "Marianne said she was going to look out some of her clothes that are too small for her. It will look so rude of me if I don't turn up. And I told Harry I'd read him my own _Wild Things_ book. I was going to act it all out for him – I promised."

"And I suppose you promised Lily you'd read her the whole of _Alice in Wonderland_ and then you'd act out the Mad Hatter and the March Hare and Tweedledum and Tweedledee?" I said.

"Tweedledum and Tweedledee are in _Alice Through the Looking Glass_ ," said Prue. "There! We can have ten minutes tonight demurely discussing our favourite nursery classics. I swear I won't cry or make a scene or try to make you stay later."

I said nothing.

"Don't you trust me?"

"I don't trust either of us," I said. "OK, OK, come round tonight. But it must be the last time. This is getting too worrying. God knows what could happen if we carry on like this. I want you to tell Marianne that you can't babysit for a while. Say you've got too much homework – any old excuse. Will you do that?"

"If you make me," she said.

I wasn't entirely happy with that answer, but she left before I could argue.

I couldn't stop worrying about tonight. I also couldn't stop thinking about Prue. I couldn't get her out of my head no matter how hard I tried, and it was driving me nuts. I pushed away the part of me that was excited. It was wrong, so very wrong, for me to feel this way. One more night of babysitting wouldn't hurt, would it? I was so conflicted I didn't trust my own judgment anymore.

When the doorbell rang that evening, my heart thumped. I sent Marianne down to get the door while I gave the kids a bath. She had a headache, confirming even more that I should have cancelled tonight. What was I thinking?

I finished washing the kids and got them in their pyjamas. I had Harry brush his teeth in the bathroom and tucked Lily into her cot, before searching for Harry's Honeybear. Our bedroom door was left ajar so I went to have a look inside. I stood in the doorway and saw Marianne applying eye shadow on Prue at the dressing table. I didn't say anything, just watching in silence. Prue's long dark curls hung down her back and I noticed a patch of red on her neck. Her cheeks had been enhanced by a subtle blush shade, and her eyebrows had been defined with dark pencil. She looked stunning. She was beautiful anyway, so she really didn't need make-up. But it suited her.

Prue opened her eyes when Marianne finished shadowing them and saw my reflection in the mirror. "Oh, sorry!" she said. "Shall I go and see to the children now?"

"We're not finished yet!" said Marianne. "What about eyeliner? Just a very subtle grey shade? Keith, you haven't left the kids in the bath, have you?"

"No, no, they're in their jim-jams. I'm just looking for Harry's Honeybear, but I got distracted by the make-up session. It looks great."

"Just call me the makeover queen," said Marianne. She gathered Prue's hair in her hands.

"Hey, let's see what your hair looks like pinned up."

Prue's cheeks flooded red. Unbelievably, it made her even more beautiful.

"No, it looks silly up. I don't like it," said Prue. But Marianne twirled Prue's hair round her finger, and fixed it in a little chignon on top.

"There!" said Marianne. "Oh, that looks so _good_! You've got such a lovely neck, Prue, just like a little ballet dancer."

Prue pulled a face, fidgeting.

"Doesn't she look lovely, Keith?" said Marianne.

"Yes, she does," I said. "But maybe you should be getting on with _your_ hair and make-up, Marianne, or we'll never get out. The film starts at half past eight."

Marianne sighed. "We can always get it out later on DVD. I'm not sure I can be bothered, not with this headache. I don't really feel like going out at all."

"I think we should try to make the most of tonight. It might be our last chance for a while," I said.

I looked at Prue. She stared into the mirror at her reflection, admiring her new hairstyle. I waited for her to take the hint, but she didn't.

"Prue isn't sure she can keep on babysitting on a regular basis," I said. _Come on, Prue. We agreed. Help me out here!_

"Yes I can." said Prue. She didn't look at me.

"Didn't you tell me at school that your mum isn't too happy about it?" I said sternly. My heart started beating fast, this time in anger. Why was she going back on what we agreed? She knew how dangerous this was. I felt the hairs pricking up on my neck.

"Oh, she's had second thoughts."

"Are you sure?" said Marianne. "We've been a bit cheeky, simply commandeering you and taking you totally for granted."

"I'm quite sure," said Prue.

"Well, that's good," said Marianne. "Isn't it, Keith?"

I said nothing. If I did I'd probably end up screaming at them. No, it isn't good, Marianne. It couldn't be any worse. As for Prue, I should have known she would do this. I walked out of the room, ignoring both of them.

I was still furious when Marianne and I got into the car and drove off. Marianne yawned and sighed, staring out the window. She lowered it after a few minutes, breathing deeply.

"Keith, could you slow down a bit? I don't feel very well," said Marianne.

"Do you want me to pull over?"

"No, just slow down,"

I eased off the accelerator, lowering my window too. We sat in silence after that for several minutes. I stared straight ahead most of the time, but whenever I looked Marianne's way she was yawning.

"Oh God… Keith, can you stop? I think I'm going to be sick,"

"I did ask before," I said, slowing right down.

"Well, I didn't know I'd feel worse, did I?" she said, leaning forward and bending her head down. "Oh God, no…"

I looked at her just as she leaned over and threw up out the window. I found a place to park, but it was a main road so we couldn't stay long. I switched off the engine. Marianne opened her door and groaned, heaving herself from the car. I got out and followed her, locking the car. She sat on the kerb, head between her knees. I rubbed her back and another torrent of sick spewed from her mouth. I felt in my jeans pocket for some tissue and handed it to her. She took it without thanks, wiping her mouth with a sigh.

"I should never have come out tonight. Why did you have to insist on seeing that film?" she said.

"I told you. It might be our last chance for a while,"

"Yes, but didn't you listen to Prue? She said it was fine,"

"Let's just focus on getting you home and feeling better, shall we?"

"I feel terrible. I think that's the last of it for now. Let's go," she said, standing up and wiping her forehead. We drove home, arriving in about ten minutes. I held the front door open for us and she trudged inside with a sigh.

"I'll sort out the money for Prue. You go to bed," I said, putting my keys away.

"OK," Marianne sighed, making her way upstairs.

I looked at myself in the hallway mirror. I was pale, my hair slightly dishevelled. I ran my hand through it, closing my eyes for a second. What was I going to do?

I opened my eyes and waited for Prue. She came downstairs slowly, eyes on me.

"Marianne's gone to bed," said Prue.

"Yes. Right. I'll take you home then."

"All right."

She followed me out of the front door, down the path, through the gate, into the car. I could feel her watching me as I drove off.

"Are you cross with me?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"Yes," I said.


	7. Chapter 7

p class="MsoNormal"span style="text-decoration: underline;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"Chapter 7/span/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" We drove in silence. Minute after minute ticked by, neither of us saying anything. It was becoming unbearable, so I reached out and switched on the radio. Loud pop music filled the car. It didn't help much, but it was better than silence. I hated myself for letting things between me and Prue get this far. I was annoyed with both of us. I stared straight ahead, frowning, pretending to be concentrating hard on the traffic. We got to Prue's street in just over five minutes. I drew up right outside the shop and switched off the engine. The music stopped abruptly. The car was silent./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Right," I said. "How much do we usually pay you then?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I don't want any money," said Prue./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Don't be silly. Let me pay you for a full night's babysitting. Here, take this." I took several notes from my wallet and thrust them at her./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "No!"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Take it. It's a bit extra, to thank you for being such a good babysitter."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Will you let me keep coming?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "No. I told you. This has got to stop. It's getting out of hand. I think Marianne senses something. That's maybe why she was ill."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "No it isn't! She emlikes /emme, Rax, she wants me to keep coming. It's just that you won't let me."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Yes." There was a very long pause. "Well. Off you go then."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Is that it? You're not even going to say goodbye properly?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "For heaven's sake, Prue, you'll see me at school often enough."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "But it's different there. We can't talk properly. You're the teacher and I'm the pupil."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Weem are/em teacher and pupil."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "What about if we weren't? If I didn't even go to Wentworth? How would you feel about me then?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I'd feel exactly the same as I do now. You're a child of fourteen."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "The same age as Marianne when you started going out together. What if Marianne and I were both girls in your class at school? Would you like her best – or me?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Will you emstop/em this! You're distorting everything, playing silly games. Look, Prue, I don't want to hurt you, but you must understand. I'm your schoolteacher. We could both get into such huge trouble. I took an interest in you because you were new to the school and finding it hard going and I sympathised. I tried to help you and then I made the big mistake of asking you to babysit for me and now somehow it's all become too intense, too worrying. I feel so guilty, which is mad, because nothing's actually emhappened/em."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "It has now," she said, and before I could protest she reached over and kissed me on the lips. Electricity shot through my body, straight to the pit of my stomach. It was a dry-lipped kiss, but it was enough to get my blood pumping. I had to stop this. Now. I could feel myself weakening already, about to give in to the kiss. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "For God's sake!" I said, trying to pull away. She kissed me again, sliding her arms round my neck and holding me tight. I tried to pull myself away, but gave up after mere seconds. I kissed her back, deeply and passionately. My blood fizzed, my heart thumped, and my mind stopped. I couldn't control myself. I just wanted to keep kissing her. It felt so right to move my mouth with hers. The guilt crept in as soon as we stopped./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Prue, we're right outside your shop," I said. "Your mother—"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "She's not expecting me back for ages, you know that."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" But there were people coming out of the Chinese takeaway, looking in our direction./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Oh God," I said. I started up the car and we drove off./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Where are we going?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I don't know. Round the block. I just need to think what to do," I said./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" Prue kept quiet then. I circled the block but didn't stop, driving on to the outskirts of the town. I decided to drive to the secret place I'd go when things became too much. Nobody would find us there. It had been a long time, and I'd never taken anyone there before. Not even Marianne. And now here I was, taking my pupil there to avoid getting caught cheating on her./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I drove down the familiar dark lane with fields on either side. I pulled up beside a clump of trees. "Where are we?" Prue whispered./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Oh, this is just… somewhere I used to come," I whispered back./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" Prue reached over to kiss me again./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "No! No, listen, Prue, we've got to talk," I said, trying to turn my head./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I don't want to talk. You'll just say sensible things and I won't want to listen. Let's just do this."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" She kissed me and I kissed her back. I couldn't resist her. Sparks reignited inside me and exploded throughout my body. I wanted her. I wanted her so badly I couldn't pull away. I felt more alive in this car, kissing Prue, than I'd felt in all the years I'd spent with my wife./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I love you," said Prue. "I love you, I love you, I love you."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" She waited./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I loved her too, I was certain of it. And hearing her express her love for me like that made me incredibly happy. But saying it aloud made it too final, too real. If I uttered those words there was no going back./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Tell me you love me just a little tiny bit," she begged./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Prue—"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Go on. You said it before, when you drove off that time. You said it then because you weren't sure I could see, and you could pretend it didn't really count. Say it now, Rax. Say it properly."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I love you."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Oh!"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "But this is crazy. We're both mad. You're still so young."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Shut emup/em."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "And I'm married, I love my family, I don't want to do anything to hurt them. I don't want to do anything to hurt emyou/em. You're enjoying this now because it's so exciting and romantic and dangerous. It's the best game in all the world. It's emmy/em imaginary game too. Don't you think I haven't lain awake at night thinking about you, wishing we could be together, fantasising all sorts of things."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "emReally/em?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Of course."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Then why have you been trying to stop seeing me?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Because there is no way we can ever be together. You know that, don't you?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Maybe… maybe sometime—"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "It's not going to happen."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "But we love each other so much."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "You think you love me—"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I emdo/em!"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "And next year you'll fall in love with another teacher, or maybe an artist, whoever – and then at art college you'll fall passionately for the scruffiest student—"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "You really think I could go to art college?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "And then another student, and then another, and then emeventually/em you'll meet the man of your dreams and you'll live with him and have his children and then one night you'll be kissing each other and he'll ask you about your past loves and you'll say, 'Oh yes, I remember when I was fourteen. I fell in love with my art teacher,' and I bet you'll have a struggle to even remember my name." /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Will you always remember emmy/em name?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Oh yes. There'll be no forgetting you, Prudence King."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "You haven't kissed any of the other girls at school?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "For God's sake, what do you think I am? Of course not."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "But you're glad now that you kissed me?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I'm very happy, very unhappy, very confused," I said. "I don't know what to do now." I let out a long sigh. "I really don't know."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" Prue reached out, touching my face very gently with her fingers. Goose bumps prickled over my skin at her touch. I stifled a shiver of pleasure. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I felt so conflicted. One half of me was thrilled to be alone with Prue, and to have fallen in love again. The other half of me was unbearably sad to have betrayed my family. I was crazy to be doing this right now. I'd cheated on my wife. We'd made vows to each other, promised ourselves to each other for the rest of our lives. And now I'd ruined everything. I was one of them, one of those men who were unfaithful to their wives. I was a liar and a cheat. I was a disgrace and deserved everything that was coming to me./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" And then there was Prue, lovely, wonderful Prue, sat beside me in my car. Completely oblivious to all the thoughts racing through my head. Completely faithful that all would work out happily for us, that we would drive off into the night and never look back. Lord knows I wanted to drive off with her and leave my old life behind. I wanted it so much I could have wept, for me, for Marianne, for our children. What sort of father abandons his sick wife at home and kisses his fourteen-year-old pupil in his car out in the woods? Ha, and to think I judged all those other men who had done the same thing. What a hypocrite. What a complete joke of a human being. I deserved to be punished. Marianne didn't deserve this, and neither did our kids./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I think you're looking sad. emPlease/em don't be sad, Rax. Be happy. emI'm/em happy, the happiest I've ever been in my whole life. I never dreamed I could feel like this. I've read all sorts of books, I've pretended stuff, but I had no idea it would feel so wonderful." said Prue./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I melted. Bless her. Here was a young girl sat next to me telling me she loved me. She wasn't conflicted at all, she was just happy. Fully rooted in the here-and-now with no worries about the future. She knew what she wanted, how she felt. Oh Lord, just let me enjoy this, if only for a moment. Let me enjoy one more moment of bliss with the girl I loved. Come what may; let me have this time with her. I loved her. I loved her so much./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Oh Prue. Come here." I pulled her nearer, wrapping my arms round her and holding her tight, her head on my chest. I gently kissed the top of her head, nuzzling into her hair./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "It's starting to escape from the top knot already," I said. "Ouch, there's a hairpin! Do you mind if I take the pins out and let it hang free again? Your new hairstyle's very sophisticated, but I like it better the old way."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" She shook it free at once, combing it with her hands. I played with it too, winding strands round my fingers./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I love your hair," I said./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "It's emhorrible/em! I wish I had straight silky hair."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Your hair's like you."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Yes, wild and mad and untidy."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "OK, wild, but also springy and full of life. And utterly uncontrollable. What am I going to do with you, Prue? What are we going to do?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I know. We're going to start driving and keep on driving, all through the night, until we get somewhere we've never been before, and we'll start our new life together, Prue and Rax. We'll find some old cottage or beach shack, we'll live very frugally on bread and cheese – maybe chips! – and you won't go to work and I won't go to school. We'll paint all day. You'll teach me lots of things. We'll go for long walks hand in hand and in the evenings we'll curl up together and then we'll read. Maybe you'll read to me – would you like that?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I'd like that. I'd like all of it," I said. "If only!"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Let's make a wish that it will come true someday," said Prue. She reached up and pulled out one of her hairs./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "What are you doing?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" Prue found my left hand and wrapped her hair round and round my ring finger. "There! That means that emone/em day you'll be mine. I'm wishing it. You wish it too, Rax. Come on, close your eyes and emwish/em."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Sometimes you're more like four than fourteen," I said. But then I held onto my own hand, silently wishing./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "OK. That's the future taken care of," I said. "But we're still in the present now. I've got two little children and a sick wife at home. If she wakes up she'll be wondering what the hell has happened to me. emI'm/em wondering. Maybe I've gone crazy. Come on, let's get you back home again."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "It's still quite early. We could stay another half hour, easily."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "No, it's time to go, Prue," I said, gently pushing her back into her seat. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" We drove off down the lane. "We could drive up to Scotland, down to Cornwall, across to Wales—"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "We could. But we're not going to. We're going to take you straight back home, OK?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "emThis/em time."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "This time," I said./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "But one day—"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Yes, one day," I repeated wearily./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Are you just humouring me?" asked Prue./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Yes. And humouring myself too."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "We'll work it all out, Rax, you'll see. I swear I won't make things difficult for you at school. I'll be the total soul of discretion. Don't laugh at me, I emwill/em. I'll do whatever you say, just so long as I can still see you in secret just a little bit."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" She chattered away, even though I wasn't saying anything. But I listened to everything she said. And when we came to her street I parked a little way up the road, glanced round quickly and then gave her one last long kiss. It felt incredible./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Out you get, right now, or I really will drive off with you," I said./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Then I'm staying!"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Prue. Please. Go now."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "One more kiss?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "What happened to your doing everything I say?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "OK, OK. Goodnight, darling Rax. See you at school."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Ssh! Yes, right. Off you go now, there's a good girl. No hanging about or waving or blowing kisses, OK?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" Prue got out of the car and walked to the shop door without turning round. I waited until she went inside, and then drove away./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I thought about kissing Prue the whole way home, unable to stop. I could taste her lipstick, faintly sweet on my tongue. I remembered her scent, still lingering in the car. Her absence was almost palpable. I missed her already. It tugged at me like a thick rope around my body, pulling me back towards her. I sighed./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" When I went to bed that night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, Marianne fast asleep beside me. I imagined driving off with Prue all through the night until we got somewhere new. I imagined talking and laughing and joking with her. I thought about her smile, how happy she was every time she saw me. And I remembered our kisses. I touched my lips, closing my eyes. I anticipated seeing her next week at school. My heart automatically started thudding in my chest. After a while, I gave up on sleep and went to the bathroom. I splashed water on my face, looking at my face in the mirror. I locked the door and leaned against it, sliding to the floor with my head in my hands. I sat and wept like a pathetic child. Tear after tear spurted, losing themselves between my fingers and soaking into my skin. After a long time, I got up and made my way back to bed. I lifted the covers over me and turned away from Marianne. I couldn't look at her, even though she was asleep./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" Saturday and Sunday dragged. I put on my usual happy, contented front for Marianne's parents in Basingstoke on our usual Sunday visit. I was itching to get away, back to work, back to what I was good at – teaching. Back to Prue./span/p 


	8. Chapter 8

p class="MsoNormal"span style="text-decoration: underline;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"Chapter 8/span/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I left for work on Monday earlier than usual, telling Marianne I had some extra marking to complete before lessons started. The truth was that I was just plain guilty. Wracked with it. It made me feel sick. I went straight to the art room and leaned back against my desk before sitting on it, staring into space./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" Then the door opened./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Rax, Rax, Rax!" called Prue, rushing into the room, panic stricken. I stared at her before jumping down from my desk. "What's the matter, Prue?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Oh, Rax," said Prue, starting to cry./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "What is it? What's happened? Tell me!" I said./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "It's Dad! Heem knows/em!"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "What?" I said. I was horrified. "What do you mean, he knows? You didn't emtell /emhim, did you, Prue? What did you emsay/em?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I didn't say anything! He came home this weekend, he's getting better, he can talk now, and he saw us in our Wentworth uniform, and he says we can't come to school anymore!" she wailed./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "What about you and me? Did you tell him about us?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Of course I didn't!"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Oh, thank Christ."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "But don't you see, Rax, he hates the whole idea of Wentworth. He positively forbade Grace and me to come today. We just rushed out, but he's so fierce, he won't let us get away tomorrow, and he won't let me babysit, I know he won't." She looked at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. I breathed out, leaning against my desk. The nausea, the terrible panic that had swelled inside me just seconds before, was slowly melting away. It was OK. Our secret was safe, at least for now. Prue must have seen my relief, because she sobbed even harder./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Prue! Prue, stop it. Come on, calm down. It'll be all right. Don't worry. Don't cry so. You're getting in such a state over nothing."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Nothing! Is that all out love means to you? emNothing/em?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Ssh now! Of course not. But there's no point getting hysterical. We'll get everything sorted out. I'm sure you'll be able to stay at school. Prue, emplease/em don't cry like that." I took two steps forward, my hands outstretched, and she fell into my arms. She wept against my chest. I patted her back. "There, there," I murmured. She wept harder. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I emlove/em you, Rax," said Prue – as the art-room door swung open behind us. We wheeled round, and I pushed Prue away from me. We looked at the door. It was only Sarah, smiling at us, dangling a red ball on a string. I rubbed my forehead with the palm of my hand. That was far too close. I forced a smile. "Hello, Sarah," I said./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Hello, Rax," Sarah said cheerfully. "Look at my red ball!"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Great," I said./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Prue, Toby wants you," said Sarah./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Never emmind/em," said Prue, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "You're crying," said Sarah./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "No, she's just got something in her eye," I said. "Prue, you'd better go and find out what Toby wants." /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "But I have to talk to you!"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "emI /emlike talking to Rax," Sarah said./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "And I like talking to you, Sarah," I said. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" Sarah smiled at Prue triumphantly. "You go and find Toby," she said./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "But I must talk to you, Rax!" said Prue desperately./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Later," I told her. "Off you go now." I summarily dismissed her. Sarah followed, dangling her red ball. I was finally alone. I just hoped Sarah hadn't heard anything that was said between me and Prue. I tried not to stress about it, but I felt a quiet sense of foreboding from then on, even into my first lesson. I couldn't shake the feeling something terrible was going to happen./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" My worst fears were confirmed just minutes after I'd finished my first lesson. I was summoned to Miss Wilmott's office. She had me sit down opposite her. I hid my fear as best I could, acting as calm and collected as possible. My heart raced under my jacket. I swallowed./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "So, Mr Raxberry. I've been hearing some extremely worrying stories about you from a student. Apparently Sarah from your year ten art class saw you and Prudence King together in your art room before school and you were embracing. She says Prudence told you she loved you while you held her in your arms and fondled her. Is that correct, Mr Raxberry?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "If you'll allow me to explain, Miss Wilmott, I can assure you it wasn't at all what it looked like. Prudence's been babysitting for me and my wife on Friday evenings these past few weeks, so she likes to confide in me. I tried to help her, as she's been having issues with her family and finding it hard going."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Is there anything more about your relationship with Prudence that I should know about? Because I assure you, Mr Raxberry, if anything happened between you and Prudence there would be very serious consequences. Tell me, were you and Prudence engaging in… how should I put it? Inappropriate behaviour?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Not at all, Miss Wilmott." I said, resisting the urge to wipe my forehead. My fingers twitched. A flashback of kissing Prue went through my mind. Thank goodness Miss Wilmott couldn't read my thoughts. But I couldn't let my body language give me away. I had to stay cool. For both my sake and Prue's./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "You didn't… embark on a love affair with Prudence?" said Miss Wilmott, eyes piercing me./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Absolutely not. I can't think of anything more ridiculous. Prudence simply developed a bit of a crush on me and I was just trying to be kind, to do the right thing. I know I shouldn't have allowed her to hug me but if I rejected her it may have made things worse."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Worse how, Mr Raxberry?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Well, she may have become upset." /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "And why would that be?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Because she said she'd had an argument with her parents this morning. She was clearly feeling a bit sensitive already."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "So she came to you for comfort?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Yes," I said./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "And have you engaged in any other physical contact with Prudence? Kissing, touching, the like?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "No. I have not."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Thank you, Mr Raxberry. I think that covers everything I need to know from you. I shall be taking this up with Prudence and then I will make a decision regarding what action to take against this. I hope you'll understand me when I tell you this friendship with Prudence emcannot/em continue, and that one of you will have to leave. Given Prudence's track record at Wentworth so far, I'm inclined to send her to an alternative school. You're free to go."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I nodded and left the room as calmly as I could, closing the door quietly behind me. I breathed a long sigh. Whether she bought my story, I didn't know. Only time would tell. All I could think about was how much I needed to speak to Prue. I'd brushed her off earlier and now I was the one desperate to talk. I couldn't bear the thought of her thinking I'd just abandoned her, that I didn't care. I had to tell her I loved her, tell her how sorry I was for hurting her and ruining everything. Even if I got to keep my job, I knew Prue and I wouldn't be allowed anywhere near each other after this. Either I would be sacked and arrested or Prue would be excluded. I would have to wait for Miss Wilmott to speak to Prue before I could do anything. My fate rested on what Prue told her. I felt utterly helpless, powerless. Would Prue tell the truth? Would she break down and confess what really happened between us, revealing all our secrets? Would she blame it all on me, saying she was the victim of my unwanted advances? I didn't really think Prue would do that – I knew her well enough by now – but I panicked about it all the same. Who knew what she'd say under such intense pressure to tell the truth?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I spent the rest of the day in a state of anxiety. I decided I would wait for Prue in my car after school. It was the only way I could talk to her alone. I couldn't let her go without explaining myself. It would probably be the last time I ever saw her. My eyes stung./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I walked over to my car at the end of the day, unlocked the door and sat inside, starting the engine and driving round to the other side of the school, away from the main entrance. There was less chance of being seen this way. I waited, anxious to see Prue. I kept glancing into the rear-view mirror after I parked up, anticipating her approach. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" And then I saw her./span/p 


	9. Chapter 9

p class="MsoNormal"span style="text-decoration: underline;"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"Chapter 9/span/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" She was running in my direction, Grace on her heels. They both stopped near my car. I leaned out my window and nodded to Grace. "Hello, Grace. Do you think you could go home by yourself just this once? I need to talk to Prue."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" Grace stared, open-mouthed./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Yes, you go home, Grace," said Prue, and got into my car. We drove off quickly./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "We're not supposed to see each other anymore," said Prue. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I know."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "If Miss Wilmott saw—"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "She can't see round corners."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "So where are we going?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I don't know. I don't care. I just had to see you. What's happening? Are they excluding you?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Miss Wilmott doesn't want me back at all."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Oh God. Prue, I'm so so sorry."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "It's not your fault."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Yes it is. I hate myself. I let her think the worst of you, the best of me, just to save my own skin. I said it was ridiculous talking about a love affair between us. I said you simply had a crush on me, and that I was just trying to be kind."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Well, that's what you said before, to me."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "And you were brave enough to stand up to me and force me to acknowledge the truth."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Which is?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I hesitated. Then I said it, very softly. "I love you."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "You emreally/em do?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "That's why I had to take a risk and see you this one last time. I didn't want you to think I didn't care."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Then let's keep driving. Let's really run away, you and me. I don't care where we go. We'll find a little seaside town with a harbour and boats, just like the one you painted when you were little, and we'll both eat ice creams every day."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I can't, Prue. You know I can't. I'm going to stay with my family, stick with my job, do all the safe sensible things. But every night when I close my eyes I'll think of us together in this car and how badly I emwanted/em to drive off with you. I'll imagine us walking hand in hand at the water's edge—"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I'll imagine it too. I'm good at pretending."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "You've got your whole life in front of you. You won't have to pretend, you can live it for real."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Can we at least drive to that secret place where we kissed?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "No. We can't go there, it would be crazy."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Please, Rax."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "No. Stop it."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I can't bear the thought of not seeing you."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Listen. I told you, one day someone will ask you about the first time you fell in love and I bet you you'll struggle to even remember my name."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I'll always remember you, and every little thing about you."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "You wait and see. Now, I think I'd better take you home."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "No!"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "If you arrive long after Grace your mother will think it strange."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "I don't care. I'm in enough trouble as it is."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "What do you think they'll say when you tell them you can't go back to Wentworth? I wish I wasn't such a coward. I ought to go and meet them and try to explain."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "To my emdad/em? Don't be silly, Rax. Listen, couldn't we meet up sometimes, after you've finished school?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "No."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "We would be very careful."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "We'd still be found out sooner or later."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "Then can't I phone you? Or write to you? emPlease/em, Rax."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" "No. This is it, Prue. We have to say goodbye."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I drove her home. I parked a few metres away from the shop, but I would never kiss her in broad daylight; there were people wandering up and down the pavement. But oh, how I wished I could take her face in my hands and give her one last kiss goodbye. Instead I reached out for her hand squeezed it gently. "Goodbye." I whispered. She whispered it back and then left the car. She stood on the pavement and watched as I drove away. Seconds later my eyes filled with burning tears. My body shook as I broke down, wiping my face with the back of my hand./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" It tore me up inside that I would never see her again. I couldn't believe it had all escalated so quickly. In the space of a few days everything had changed. If only I had been stronger and stopped Prue from coming over that last time. Instinct had told me it would end badly and I'd ignored it. Now I had wrecked her life. At the same time I was glad that Prue was aware I loved her back, glad that I'd expressed my feelings and kissed her on Friday night. I meant every word I told her about how I felt. I'd known for weeks that my excitement at the prospect of seeing her, the deep warm feeling in my stomach, the thump of my heart every time I thought about her, were all telling me loud and clear that I didn't just emlike/em Prue. I was in love with her. And there was nothing I could do about it./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I still loved Marianne, of course. But what I felt for Prue was different. I loved her for completely different reasons: the way she grinned with happiness whenever she was around me, the way she lit up whenever I entered the room, the way she listened so intently whenever I talked to her. The way she dressed, her unique little outfits and painted tattoos on her skin. Her wild, dark, curly hair that had a life of its own. The way her soft cheeks flooded beetroot red when she was around me. Her intelligent, passionate, artistic mind. Her outlook on life. How much we both had in common. I didn't think it was possible to relate to another person as much as I did with Prue. I would never find anyone else on the same wavelength as her. She was unique. You really don't meet many people like her. I certainly hadn't. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I knew that one day she'd move on and love again, forgetting all about me and our stolen moments in the car after she babysat for me. She'd be fine… eventually. As for me, I knew I'd never truly move on from this. Even though I had my wife and children to distract me, I knew I'd never feel quite so alive again. It would be an unremarkable existence, my life from here on out. I would go to work every day, and at the weekends continue with our usual routine. And I would think of Prue./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I drew her in my private sketchpad over and over again, tearing each one up into shreds so they couldn't be found. I no longer left my drawings anywhere near Marianne, of course. I hid my sketchpad in a spot where nobody would find it. I drew Prue in short time increments here and there, making sure no soul saw what I was doing. It was for my eyes only. I had long conversations in my head with her, asking her about her day, how she was feeling – all the ordinary stuff. And I imagined walking along the beach with her, hand in hand. I imagined holding her in my arms and feeling her heart beating against mine. I pictured us standing in front of each other on the sand, holding each other's hands, twining out fingers together. I saw myself raising one of her hands to my lips and kissing it. I looked down at her, getting lost in her dark eyes, noticing each individual eyelash. I looked at her soft rosebud lips, sweet and pink. And then I imagined kissing her as the waves swept over our feet…/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I snapped back to the present and looked at the car clock. It was half past four in the afternoon. I'd driven home on autopilot and been sat here for nearly an hour. I didn't want to go inside and see my wife. I didn't want her seeing me like this. I didn't want the kids seeing me either. I didn't want to be a dad right now – I didn't deserve it. I felt so guilty for betraying my family. They could never find out what I'd done – that is, if I still wanted a roof over my head. Though how Marianne could manage without me with no job or childcare I didn't know. But there was no point thinking about that because I wasn't going anywhere. I would stay with my family and continue my sad, boring life. And then maybe in a few years I would think about what I would do, decide whether I wanted to leave behind my marriage and start again on my own. But not until the kids were at least a few years older, and Marianne would be able to get back into her accounting work while they were at school. Even then, I still wasn't sure if I'd have the guts to walk away from her. Of course, I'd make sure I had access to Harry and Lily, but I knew that spending the rest of my life knowing I'd cheated on her would be unbearable. Though, it wasn't just guilt that made me want to leave; I'd been unhappy for over a year anyway. As much as I loved my family I just didn't feel the same way about Marianne as I did when we got married. I knew all relationships changed over the years but I wasn't sure I felt anything romantic towards her anymore. I didn't want to kiss her – I only did it out of habit, not from affection or any real attraction. We'd promised ourselves to each other for the rest of our lives but I felt differently now. I did care about her, but it was more like loving a sister. I didn't want to rip her clothes off or sleep with her. We didn't do it anymore, anyway. Not since she fell pregnant with Lily. And certainly not once Prue started babysitting for us. After all, that was when I started developing strong feelings for her instead./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I hadn't intended to fall for her. It just happened, without my control. The more I saw her, the stronger my attraction for her became. And the more risks I took, the more stupid decisions I made to keep seeing her. All that just fanned the flames and fuelled the spark I felt that slowly became a fire, burning with passion./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" I went over everything in my head, right from the very beginning, from the moment I first saw her in her red-checked dress, standing with her mother and sister in the school playground, looking wary and afraid. Prue had seemed surer of herself than her sister and mother, her chin held up high in defiance at all the teasing kids surrounding the trio of newcomers. Looking back, I was drawn to her even then. I'd admired her bravery in the face of adversity. It was something I wished I had more of myself. I'd noticed she was pretty, but only in an objective sort of way. Certainly not in a sexual or romantic way. I'd had no idea how important she would become to me. Back then, all those weeks ago, she was just a young girl who I felt moved to help because she seemed to be struggling. I didn't set out to become close to her. I didn't expect her to fall in love with me. I'd had no idea where it would all lead. I wasn't thinking that far ahead. I just wanted to help her and I sympathised because I knew how she must have been feeling, how vulnerable she was. I wanted to feel needed, to feel useful. And yes, I wanted to be emwanted/em. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" Hindsight was a wonderful thing. I could understand my motivations far better now that everything was said and done. Back then, I was just trying to be kind, to be a good teacher. I didn't know what I was doing, or the emotional consequences of my behaviour. My headspace back then was focused on trying to get through each day without going insane with boredom. I put on a smiley front at school, and did enjoy teaching, but something had been missing. I didn't know how that void could be filled. That is, until I met Prue. I didn't feel empty when I was around her; I had a full cup. I didn't yearn for love, affection or attention when I was with her. She gave me the missing piece I didn't know I needed, just by being there. Her presence alone was enough. Her vibe, her energy, and her warmth melted my heart and thawed me from the inside out. She'd caught me off guard, with no defence, no means of escaping. She hadn't just touched my heart; she'd grabbed it and stolen it away from me. It had hit me smack bang in the middle of my chest./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" It was when she blew that kiss to me after I drove her home that time that it had dawned on me. That night was the game-changer, because it was then that I realised I was a goner, that she had me under her spell. And the scariest part of it was that I didn't want to break free of it. It didn't feel like a curse or anything remotely dark or bad or wrong. It felt like a blessing. Somehow, out of nowhere, she had come into my life, with no warning or precedent. She had me at the heartstrings and didn't let go. She was like an answered prayer I had unwittingly sent out, wishing for something exciting and dynamic to happen in my dull, ordinary life. And boy, did she fulfil that wish. Even more than it was possible to put into words. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal"span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;" But it was a wish that wasn't compatible with the real world. It was illegal. Forbidden territory. Unattainable. It seemed like all the best things were – well, being with Prue definitely was. Forbidden fruit always tasted the sweetest./span/p 


End file.
